


Sunup

by Swordy



Series: Guide You Home [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Wedding, also cor, don't fuck with gladio and ignis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 16:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14980715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swordy/pseuds/Swordy
Summary: With Ardyn vanquished and the daylight returned, Gladio and Ignis discover they have one final hurdle to overcome in order to have the future they planned.The fourth and final story in a series written as part of a collaboration with the amazing hanatsuki89.The art for this fic is here:http://hanatsuki89.tumblr.com/post/175053915378/sunup-last-part-from-the-swordyhana





	Sunup

“I’m sorry Mr. Amicitia, but you know it’s not right. Two men being together is an affront to the Gods, so I certainly won’t agree to officiate your wedding.”

Gladio turns at this, his eyebrows almost meeting in the middle he’s frowning so hard. The high priest shrinks slightly behind his desk, his expression indicating he’s suddenly less sure of his convictions in the presence of the late King Noctis's fairly sizeable, and now fairly angry shield. The slatted blinds at the window are keeping the sun's rays at bay, but the temperature in the room has noticeably dropped a couple more degrees.

“You think the Gods give a crap about who I love?” Gladio growls. “They don’t care about us, and trust me, if I wouldn’t marry a woman to satisfy my own father, I ain’t about to do it to satisfy them.”

The greying clergyman sighs, a minute shake of his head evidently the only resistance he’s brave enough to offer.

“Besides,” Gladio continues, “if the average person on the street doesn’t have a problem with it—”

“It’s _still_ a sin.”

“Maybe a thousand years ago! The world's moved on.”

The priest purses his lips, arms folded, conveying finality. “As I said before, I’m sorry, Mr. Amicitia. I wish I could help you, but I can’t.”

“I’ll find another priest,” Gladio says, firing his parting shot even though he already knows what the response will be. He stomps to the door, keen to put distance between himself and the other man before it comes.

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t think you’ll find one prepared to brazenly contravene the will of the gods, and while I admire your determination, I won’t pray for your success.”

One hand resting on the door handle, Gladio drops his head and breathes through his anger because there’s no point losing his shit now.

“Good,” he says quietly. “'cause we don’t need your prayers.”

He lets himself out of the priest’s office and prepares to head home to break the bad news.

OoOoO

  
“How did it go?” Ignis asks, head turned slightly at the sound of the door opening. “Actually, don’t answer that because I already know.”

“Yeah?”

“Your shoulders are slumped.”

Gladio raises an eyebrow. “Far be it from me to be the one to break it to you, Ignis, but your eyes don’t work.”

“I believe the technical term is _visually impaired_ , but I already knew the odds of your success were extremely poor, so consider it an educated guess.”

Gladio huffs a noise of not-quite amusement as he drops onto the couch next to the other man. Ignis holds out his hand and he obliges, entwining their fingers together.

“Guess you had no luck either?”

He glances over to catch the side view of Ignis’s humourless smile, followed by a quick shake of his head. “I’m afraid not. I saw three different clergymen and received the same outright refusal from them all. What I _did_ get was a lengthy lecture on the danger of sin and what will happen to my mortal soul if I continue to pursue a relationship with you.”

“Awesome.” Gladio rolls his eyes.

“In fact, one _particularly_ charitable individual invited me to consider that my loss of sight might be directly attributable to my heathen ways.”

The noise Gladio makes now definitely isn’t amused. At best it could be described as a stifled bellow of outrage; at worst, a precursor to murder. “They said _what_?” he growls, his voice strangled. “What the _fuck_...? What did you say?”

Ignis smiles serenely. “I simply disabused him of the idea that having unlimited access to your sizeable penis wasn’t worth spending an eternity in Hell, and on the slim possibility that I was wrong, I’d still take my chances, simply because fornicating with you is _that_ good.”

Gladio gapes, never precisely sure if Ignis is yanking his chain or not.

“Fuckin' hell, Iggy. You said that? In those words?”

“In those words,” Ignis confirms.

Gladio laughs, a chuckle that gains momentum until it’s a full-blown roar. Trust Ignis to stick it to those pious bastards. He eventually gets his amusement under control courtesy of the sobering realisation that between them they’ve still achieved the princely sum of nothing. Only weddings performed by a member of the Lucian holy order are legally binding, so if they can’t find one willing to officiate, then they can’t get married. He lapses into sullen reflection, his thumb stroking across Ignis's hand.

“Noct would have made them marry us,” he says into the silence.

“But would you really have wanted to have someone officiating our marriage under duress?” Ignis reasons and of course he’s right. “I want whoever's saying those words, blessing our union and binding us together for life, to _mean_ it, Gladio.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re right. I just hate it. We're not hurtin' anyone; we love each other. Why's it gotta be so complicated, huh? _No one_ aside from those religious assholes has a problem with our relationship, so who are they to tell us what we're doing is a sin?”

“I agree entirely.” Ignis reaches over and pats his hand as it rests atop his own. “But I’m afraid my response, as satisfying as it was to deliver it, has probably irreparably damaged our chances of finding a priest willing to marry us.” Ignis hesitates for a moment - time enough to tell Gladio he won’t like what’s coming next.

“Maybe we should abandon the idea of formalising our relationship.”

“What? No!” Gladio responds, his expression cycling through several different emotions, none of which Ignis can actually see, until he settles at resignation. “Unless you're tellin' me you want to...”

“Of course not.” Ignis sighs. “It’s just... we've spent so many recent years in battle; pitching ourselves into a fresh one seems... well, I can’t imagine it’s what Noct would have wanted for us.”

He turns and smiles sadly, his sightless eye almost finding Gladio's own. “I'm tired, Gladio. We’ve come such a long way and lost so much, I just want to focus on the things we _do_ have. Of course I want to marry you, but every moment we spend fighting them is a moment lost for each other. They’re never going to undergo some dramatic paradigm shift, just because we tell them we think they're wrong or that Noct would have wanted this for us.”

He studies Ignis's side profile, his beauty made only more flawless by the addition of his battle scars. Although Ignis will never know it, he’s ageing beautifully. The sharp angles of his features have softened slightly with the passage of years, but he’s still a strikingly handsome man.

And Ignis is right - they don’t need to be married to know that their bond is unbreakable. No one, no gods or priests can take away what they have. It should be enough - it _is_ enough. He knows he’s gonna love Ignis until the day he draws his last breath. But they wanted this badly, and it’s a frustrating blow to know they’re being denied it because of simple bigotry.

He moves his hand, fingers trailing up Ignis's arm so the movement is expected. Ignis closes his eye as Gladio cups his unscarred cheek and strokes it tenderly.

“As always, you prove why you’re the smart one.”

“You’re more than my equal, Gladio.”

“I suppose; I was smart enough to ask you out all those years ago.”

The skin beneath his fingertips shifts as Ignis smiles. Ignis leans into his touch and they stay like this for a few moments. This is what he lives for. This quiet solitude where the world feels right because Ignis is the sun around which he orbits. He still wants to marry him, even if the whole world is against the idea.

“We're not giving up,” Ignis clarifies, as if he can read thoughts, “we just need to step back and take stock. Regroup and look for a new way forward. Who knows - the answer might even find us.”

OoOoO

It does.

Not twenty-four hours after their disastrous meetings with the Lucian priests, they’re sitting outside a cafe with Cor on a street not far from the citadel. It’s a glorious day and they’re content to just sit for a while, reminiscing as well as talking about the future. The resurrection of Insomnia continues apace; some days, Gladio thinks, it’s possible to imagine that the crown city was never damaged at all. The scarred buildings have been repaired or replaced and now the dawn breaks on a city that dares to hope that the future will be better.

Across the road is a church, its large stained glass window the focal point of the newly-refurbished building. Whilst they’re sitting there, the sturdy wooden doors are thrown open and people start to spill out onto the steps, adults talking and laughing as children chase each other, screeching with delight. It’s a reasonably quiet street so the increase in noise is immediately noticeable. Ignis inclines his head in that direction, listening.

“It’s a wedding,” Gladio explains.

Ignis nods. “I thought as much. It’s refreshing to hear people so happy.”

“Yeah,” Gladio replies mournfully. He can feel Cor's gaze on him, but he busies himself staring into his coffee cup, not wanting to rake over this disappointment whilst the wound is still so fresh.

“Don’t mind him,” Ignis says affably. “Gladiolus is unhappy that we're unable to have the same for ourselves.”

“Oh?”

“It appears the gods don’t look favourably on marriage between two men.”

Cor frowns. “Where does it say that in the Cosmogony?”

“Technically, it doesn’t. But the Lucian religious guardians have interpreted it thusly, so we have been denied the opportunity to formalise our union, lest it damns our souls to eternal torment.”

“And since they’re the only ones who can marry us, it ain’t ever happening,” Gladio explains, desolately, his eyes returning to the wedding party as they exchange hugs and shake hands, cresting the wave of happiness that is denied to him and Ignis.

“Not true.”

Gladio glances at Ignis, whose eyebrows have twitched into a slight frown as he pauses, his coffee cup halfway to his lips. His attention then travels back to Cor, who shrugs, like he can’t see what the problem is.

“When you say, ‘not true', you mean-”

“I’ll marry you,” Cor says simply. “If, of course, you want me to?”

“But... how's that? I don’t... _Huh_?” Gladio begins before looking helplessly to Ignis, who seems to sense he’s being deferred to.

“What Gladio is so eloquently trying to say is I’m not sure we understand,” Ignis replies reasonably. “I thought the spiritual well-being of the Lucian people fell under the edicts of the holy order? They won’t allow anything that might compromise our mortal souls.”

“You said it yourself - that’s _their_ interpretation.”

“Their collective and unanimous interpretation, unfortunately.”

“But not mine, and since the Lucian government so gratefully bestowed the honorary title of _Defender of the Realm_ on me, I supersede the holy order's authority.” Cor gives them a rare smile as he leans back in his chair. “In fact, if I remember rightly, _they_ were the ones who pushed for me to have the title, as they had issue with me being known as _Cor the Immortal_ , even though that was never official.”

Cor snorts at the ridiculousness of it all. “They said it was blasphemous and made me sound like a god. Naturally they dressed up the alternative like they were honouring me, encouraging the government to give me the title for all I’ve done for Lucis, but since it technically puts me higher in the pecking order than them, _I_ can marry you.”

Gladio looks at Ignis, watching as that smile - so often dry or enigmatic or carefully considered - grows into something wide and genuine. Then he laughs, and Gladio finds himself doing the same. Cor's still smiling, evidently pleased that he can help. It probably doesn’t hurt that he’s also sticking the boot in with the religious zealots.

“You just say when and where, and I’ll be there.”

Gladio reaches across the table for Ignis's hand and gives it a quick squeeze. Suddenly the world seems brighter again.

“Sounds like we've got some planning to do.”

Ignis nods and squeezes back, his smile dazzling. “It most certainly does.”

OoOoO

_Two months later..._

Gladio studies the curve of Ignis's back, a view he will never grow tired of. He reaches out and touches the skin, still damp with perspiration, a reminder of their earlier exertions. His hand splays across that gloriously smooth flesh, made milky by the moonlight bathing their room with its ethereal glow. He traces the scars that crisscross Ignis's back, legacies of the man's determination to fight despite acquiring a disability that would see most people respectfully retiring from the fray. His hair, normally so precisely styled, looks soft and inviting as the joint efforts of the balmy evening and their physical activity has mussed it perfectly. Unable to resist, Gladio reaches out and brushes some strands off his face. Ignis stirs and shifts onto his side, but doesn’t wake. His mouth is curved into the slightest smile as he sleeps.

Today they were married, made as one in the presence of friends and loved ones. They’d decided to have the ceremony on the cliffs overlooking Cape Caem, Cor solemnly officiating as he’d promised he would. As well as being the place where they'd first spoken about marriage all those years ago, the setting had given them a stunning backdrop for making their vows and the breeze and fresh sea air had gifted Ignis vital sensory information to create his own memories of the day. As they’d gathered near the lighthouse, the sky had been clear and impossibly blue. When Ignis had asked him to describe it, he’d said without thinking that it was the same colour as Noct's eyes. Ignis had smiled at that and pronounced it a good omen.

They’d faced each other, hands lightly joined as they'd spoken the words they’d each written for the occasion. Their audience had listened in silence as they’d spoken about their love for each other; how it had grown and changed over the years; how they’d lifted each other during their darkest moments; how the future would be inconceivable without the other in it. Gladio hadn’t needed to turn to know that there were tears from some of their guests even as his own voice had cracked as he’d vowed to love Ignis until his dying day.

They’d celebrated late into the evening, dancing cheek to cheek in the gardens beneath coloured lanterns that swayed gently in the breeze. Around midnight, they’d bid their guests goodnight and retired to their room in the newly-built hotel on the shores of Cape Caem, shedding their suits and falling onto the bed together in a tangle of limbs where they’d made love, tender and unhurried.

Now, the ocean roars in the darkness behind them, the sound amplified by the opened doors out onto their balcony. Its rhythm is soothing and Gladio can feel himself being pulled toward sleep, even though he wants nothing more than to stay this way forever, staring at the man he has chosen to spend the rest of his life with. Ignis is lying on his side, his left hand splayed beside his head on the pillow. The mythril wedding band looks at home on his finger, like it’s always been there. It’s certainly always _belonged_ there.

Ignis's hands are scarred too - more reminders of the damage he sustained re-learning how to wield blades, both in the kitchen and on the battlefield. At the time, he’d joked that it was a good job he couldn’t see the damage he was doing to himself, but now he wears all his scars with pride. Gladio, too, loves each and every healed wound because they symbolise how Ignis never gave up, even when the odds were stacked against him. He’s studying his own wedding ring, identical in design, when Ignis stirs again.

“Stop staring and come and lie down with me,” Ignis murmurs into the pillow, his voice thick with sleep. He raises his left hand in invitation. Gladio laughs softly and laces their fingers together, before he settles down beside the other man, their bodies moulded together. A perfect fit as always.

“Are you happy?” Gladio asks quietly once they’re both comfortable.

He watches Ignis smile, his eye still closed. “Completely. You?”

“Yeah. Yeah I am.”

With that confirmation Gladio allows sleep to finally claim him, content in the other man's embrace. He thinks of the Lucian priests, so outraged by their union.

This isn’t a sin, of that much he’s sure.

  
**End**

**Author's Note:**

> So here we are. Firstly, a massive thank you to the lovely hanatsuki for teaming up for this project. Hon, you’re an absolute diamond and I really hope we can do this again. :)
> 
> And finally, a heartfelt thank you to everyone who has read and taken the time to leave comments/kudos for this series. It really does mean a lot to know people have enjoyed the stories. <3


End file.
